Let it ripen until it rots (but don't throw it out)
by chaoshead13
Summary: Will Graham always knew he was strange, what with the way he could read people so easily. It comes as a relief when he's told he's a wizard - because for once in his life he has an explanation. But going to Hogwarts, meeting Hannibal Lecter, only adds to the list of questions he has. Questions that Will really isn't sure he wants answers to. Harry Potter crossover AU. Hannigram.


A/N: Edited: 8.15.14

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Hogwarts, they told him, was home to great many wizards. It was a place of comfort and warmth; a second home to most, even a first to some. Will Graham found himself falling into the latter - it was difficult to call the pathetic white-washed walls of an orphanage his home. Here, the matrons held no sense of maternal comfort. There was only the indifferent, deprecating feel of an employee marching through their work day. Every now and then, there would be the odd volunteer with the genuine desire to coddle the poor, pathetic orphans. They never lasted long - a couple months at most. Their enthusiasm ran dry soon enough.

No. The orphanage was not a home - it was an infection. It spread into the workers, into the children. Bled pus into their hearts until they were just swollen, painful masses that longed for anything that would curb the pain.

It was where Will's parents abandoned him. Left him behind in a foreign country, just old enough to retain the memory of his birth right. To know the crinkle of his father's blue eyes from the depth of his mind, his mother's darks curls and even the Southern American that they both left him.

That, and if the giant man was right, then magic, as well.

"Excuse me? I'm what?" Will stared up at the giant grinning toothily down at him. To any one else - well, everyone else - the man was a threatening figure with his towering height, small eyes, and bushy hair that overtook his face. His clothes were obviously dirtied by outside work - a burly overcoat, thick and fraying at the edges. All in all, he was an individual that any normal person would step aside for - maybe even take two or five strides away from. But Will could see the twinkle in the man's visage, deigning him well-meaning and harmless despite his appearance.

"Yer a wizard, Will," the man - Hagrid, he said his name was - repeated. His tone and countenance was filled to the brim with honesty despite the ridiculous words that fell from his mouth. Will wondered briefly if the man truly believed in his words, to have faith in something so fantastical as magic. Everyone knew that magic just…magic just…

"…doesn't exist," mumbled Will bluntly. In his eleven years of life, he had enough of adults dangling him hope in front of his face only to jerk it away with a laugh. Adults with the promises of adoption that simply walked out the door with Will left behind in the corner of the common room…

They were all liars. Will was old enough to know that. Just as he was old enough to understand that magic wasn't real.

Hagrid's only reaction to Will's firm disbelief was to chuckle. He was used to this, Will could tell. Used to telling children that magic existed. Used to having some of them not believe. The blue-eyed child wondered if he should revise his first impression of the man. Maybe Hagrid was bad after all. Even if his eyes twinkled with well-meaning and mirth.

Will watched with wary eyes as the giant wielded the pink umbrella formerly from his side like a sword. It was strange, seeing how it wasn't raining. Though, Will knew that it rained a lot in London. He liked rain though, it drowned everything in water. And Will liked water. Perhaps Hagrid was the careful type - even if he didn't seem to be. The man flicked his umbrella just above Will's head causing the boy to flinch and raise his arms in defence. They were the only two in the office. There was no one to stop the man if he decided to beat Will with his umbrella; nor would there be anyone if he decided to wrap his giant hands around Will's thin, tiny neck. He'd heard of cruel rumours from the older boys of adults who visited just for that single reason. It hadn't happened to him before. But Will knew there was an unheard 'yet' to that sentence.

"Lumos," Hagrid intoned, pointing his umbrella at Will's face. A light broke through his defences, urging the child to lower his arms out of curiousity. The end of Hagrid's umbrella was glowing brightly.

"Flashlight?" Will observed with narrowed eyes, squinting at the light.

"Magic," Hagrid corrected, though he could tell by Will's incredulous expression that he hadn't won the boy over yet.

"A flashlight," insisted Will, unblinded by the adult's parlour tricks. "At the top of your umbrella, it's just a flashlight."

Hagrid let out a long sigh, ruffling his coat as he stretched his neck out. "Yer a tough one," he told Will, in that gruff voice of his. He stretched out his shoulders."'M not suppose t' really use magic 'side o' Hogwarts. But sometimes it's the only way to get yeh kids to believe. But then the simple things ain't enough." Hagrid licked his lips, glancing around the room in contemplation. He spotted the matron's pencil cup at the corner of her desk - an eighteenth century vase with a triskelion motif that she took pride in, letting all the orphans know. Hagrid flicked the tip of his umbrella, making sure that Will's attention focussed the vase. The spirals morphed into shapes along the ceramic, into a crude image of dogs chasing each other around the diameter of it - actual, moving dogs.

_What._

Will gaped. Hagrid chuckled. "That's a bit o' the difficult stuff. But I practice on m' spare time."

"Magic?" Will asked, taking the transfigured cup into his hand. He could actually feel the cold ceramic in his hands, thin but polished - something that shouldn't be able to house moving pictures like what was on it. But he could feel movement underneath his fingers as the dogs continued to run around the neck of the vase. He looked up at the giant for confirmation, years of doubt unable to wither to let hope bloom.

"Magic." Hagrid affirmed, grinning at the fascination on Will's expression.

The second time that Will met Hagrid was a month later; the man was still wearing the same, ragged overcoat that he had worn upon his first meeting. The same outfit underneath as well. Perhaps he kept his clothes well-kept with magic. Will thought to ask - he only had two pairs of his shirt and suspenders. And he needed to wash them every other day or he didn't get dinner. The boy decided against it, however, worried that any personal questions would bother the man.

Even after a month, Will was still was coming to terms to even the very basic concept of magic actually existing. Even more so that he, Will Graham (Graham cracker, the other boys called him), was part of that world - a wizard. He always knew he was different - there wasn't a single person at the orphanage who failed to let him know. But to think that all the times that he'd been able to usher the stray dogs to him to play when he was lonely, all the times he'd been able to hide in rose bushes without the thorns cutting him to pieces would be a product of magic. Maybe even his ability to read people with just a glance was magic as well.

All magic, Will thought, , rational, normal in the world of wizardry. It gave him a sense of hope that he'd long let wither under the concrete structures of the orphanage. He'd be normal among the magic folk - just another nameless face - just as he always preferred to be. Not the freak nor the cracker that cracked.

"All set?"

Will gazed up at the hand that Hagrid stretched out for him to take. He was smiling at the boy genially though he eyed the plastic shopping bag with Will's measly belongs with disapproval. For a moment, Will thought it was because he wasn't supposed to bring anything along with him. He corrected himself shortly, deeming that the man thought him unfortunate to only have a spare pair of clothing and a copy of the orphanage's identity papers for him stuffed crudely into the plastic.

A strange thought. They always told him how _blessed _he was to even have a roof above his head, let alone any clothing. They weren't even warm clothes - just a short-sleeved dress shirt and brown suspenders topped with a thin parka. Cheap cotton manufactured in a foreign sweat shop. Will confirmed this when he saw the tag: 'made in China,' it said.

"Lucky we're 'ready in London. Not far to go," Hagrid said, pleased that Will wasn't as fearful of him as many other children seemed to be. He only let go of Will's hand when they had walked a block away from the orphanage. "I'd take the night bus, but I can't let 'em know I've got a wand, yeh see. So, how about a bit o' a walk?" The giant gestured for the boy to follow.

Will nodded again to let Hagrid know that he didn't mind the walk. He turned down the offer of riding the man's shoulders were he to get tired, still wary despite the Hagrid showing him nothing but kindness. It took a bit off jogging to keep up with the adult's stride but Will had enough stamina from running away from older children so it wasn't much trouble. After twenty minutes though, the boy noticed that Hagrid's strides were getting longer and faster, making it much more difficult. He kept going though, afraid of being left behind. The way back to the orphanage was still known to him, but he didn't want to go back. Would never want to go back. He'd rather let himself waste away at the corner of a liquor mart as he'd seen so many adults do.

"Wait, Hagrid, I can't..." Will breathed, trying to catch the adult's attention. Hopefully, the action wouldn't annoy the man, but it was Will's only choice. It took him three times for the man to turn to him, looking thoroughly chastised. "Sorry there, Will," apologized Hagrid, sincerely. Will took the time in his breathlessness to observe the red embarrassment of the man's face; obviously, the man was someone who usually put more courtesy into a child's need.

"Are we in a hurry?" Will asked, wondering why the kind man would be so thoughtless to almost leave him behind. Hagrid shook his head. "Just got a little excited there. Dumbledore had me do a real special assignment earlier an' I guess I'm still a bit happy that everything went smoothly."

"A special assignment?"

Hagrid bent down low to meet Will at eye level. He cupped his hand close to the boy's ear as if to share a secret.

"Harry Potter," he said.

"Harry Potter?"

"Yeh, he's a legend in our world," explained Hagrid. Will noticed that the man's emotions revolved around pride, with just a little tinge of awe.

"Jus' one year ol' and he defeated You-Know-Who."

Will scrunched his eyebrows. "But I don't know You-Know-Who."

For a single moment, Hagrid seemed shocked at the revelation. Then he remembered where Will was from - a prison designated for children - calming down slightly. The shock was replaced with worry. "Don't make me say it, Will. I 'ready told Harry, and I don't want t' say it again."

It confused Will that the man seemed genuinely afraid to say a single name - even more so that he'd just replace the name with a 'You Know Who.' It was a strange nickname - he'd thought that people preferred to make puns out of names of those they hated. Like, Graham Cracker. However, fearful that if he were to anger Hagrid, the man would leave him back at the orphanage, Will let the name slide. He simply nodded, all to Hagrid's relief.

The two of them passed multiple hamburger shops and cinemas only to pause between large book store and record shop. Hagrid pointed to a grubby building in between the two that no one but them seemed to notice.

"There it is," said Hagrid. "That's the Leaky Cauldron."

He led Will inside, greeting some of the patrons and the bar tender, explaining that he was still on 'Hogwart's business' as he led the boy to the back of the pub. Everyone in the bar was wearing robes, many of them a simple black that was practically identical, though few had ones ranging through a rainbow of colours. Will could tell that they were a great mixture of individuals, reading each one easily, noting who was more modest than the others or who were here to mingle and even whom simply wanted to forget the troubles of daily life. As Hagrid led Will to a space where there were fewer and fewer people, the boy began to wonder if he made the right decision of coming with the man. He thought of the what ifs. What if this was all a hoax and in fact, Hagrid was going to kill him? A volunteer at the orphanage had once told him that he was bullied because he made an easy target. An easy victim that no one would ever miss.

The morbid thought was soon abandoned as the two of them stopped in front of a brick wall. Hagrid used his wand to tap at a pattern of bricks, Will easily memorizing it as he watched. The bricks quivered at Hagrid's touch, opening up a small hole that grew wider, along with Will's eyes.

"And here," said Hagrid. "Is Diagon Alley."

Will just stood at the archway in amazement, gaping at the line of shops and crowds made behind the wall. Hagrid ushered him in; he was amused at Will's mindless shock as he took in the display of cauldrons, magical items, and broomsticks that shone up to him. He saw boys and girls his own age rushing into each stores, pulling their parents with them. William felt out of place among the crowd of people, and he shrunk into himself, closer to Hagrid. There was a small pain in his chest that he recognized as jealousy at the images of happy families before him. He didn't notice when Hagrid procured a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket until he handed it over to Will.

"We've got to buy these for yeh," he explained as Will scanned through the parchment.

"Hogwarts of Witchcraft and Wizardy," he read. "First year students will require..."

Will ran through the list of supplies with a growing frown. He glanced up at Hagrid. "I don't have any money for this," he revealed, biting his lip. This was the moment Hagrid was going to turn him away. Give him a little 'sorry, it's a pity you couldn't afford to leave that hell-hole of an orphanage to live a better life.' Hagrid only looked surprised, however, before digging deeper into his pockets. A small pouch was dropped into Will's hands. It jingled as it fell, letting Will know what was inside. He reddened with embarrassment

"I can't take this, Hagrid. This isn't mi..." Will started, Hagrid interrupted him.

"That's yers, Will," Hagrid insisted. "The Ministry o' Magic has money set aside for kids like yeh."

Kids like you. Orphans.

"Yeh'll have a Gringotts account in yer name, starting this year. The Ministry o' Magic gives out a bit o' a yearly pension so yeh can afford school supplies. This year's funds are all in that bag with yer key."

"Oh," Will held tightly onto the pouch, wishing he had a bag to put it in. He glanced at the pouch, noticing that it was full of golden coins and a copper key as Hagrid said.

"Them gold coins are galleons. There aren't any sickles or knuts in there yet, but it's seventeen sickles - those will be silver - to a galleon and twenty-nine knuts - bronze ones - to a sickle."

Will nodded. He had half a mind to ask what Gringotts was, but from the context he assumed it was a bank. As well, the ministry of magic sounded exactly like a government. It would be a trouble to the man to ask, even though Will could tell that Hagrid wouldn't really mind. He kept his mouth shut.

"We'll buy yeh a cauldron first, since it's the closest store," Hagrid started, ushering him to the building on their right.

The two of them spent the next few hours going through Will's list until he had a trolley filled with books and items and even a big barn yard owl that he had named Winston. What Will treasured most though, next to Winston, was his wand - proof that all of this was real. It was eleven inches and three-quarters made of cedar wood and a unicorn hair. A curious wand, the shop owner Ollivander said, one denoting strength of character and unusual loyalty. It had sparked when he had touched it, sprinkling his cheeks and arm with warmth.

William kept the item close, in the sleeve of his newly bought robes - second-hand, he had insisted to Hagrid, so he could save money for possible emergencies later in the year. The boy rubbed at his eyes; he was sitting inside a cafe as Hagrid went to secure Will's lodgings until he needed to go to Hogwarts. It made Will relief to know that he wasn't going back to the orphanage, after all. It was more that he had hoped just two months before.

Will nibbled at the sandwich and pumpkin juice (he'd never tried pumpkin juice before!) that Hagrid had bought for him - telling him to save his money for other things - as he awaited the giant's return. Despite his insistence to accompany the man, Hagrid wouldn't bend, saying that he was too small to skip a meal. So Will remained, finishing off the crust of his food.

He waited fifteen minutes for the man. Then twenty. Thirty minutes later, however, when Hagrid hadn't returned, Will found himself wishing that he'd ask the man how long he'd be. His mind returned to the negative, wondering if Hagrid would ever come back. Adults had a penchant for abandoning him. It was the only thing he could rely on them for.

The thoughts sent fear through the child's veins and Will twitched in his seat until his breath began to constrict with panic. _What if, what if, what if? What if he had been abandoned again?_

Will shot up with a gasp, unable to keep himself from remaining still. He forced his legs to the front of the shop, looking around the now stifling district for the familiar man. He'd go look for Hagrid, just for a short while. His trolley would be in the cafe for Hagrid to find were he to come back before Will did, and he'd wait for Will to return. Yes, Will thought, as his legs began to walk him down the unfamiliar stretch of road. This wasn't like with his parents, when he was too young to understand that they wouldn't come back.

Will wandered to and fro around Diagon alley, ignoring the glances of people wondering what a young child could possibly be doing on his own. He went back to the first shop he visited, back to the cafe, past the cafe and then back again. It was when he turned into a darker alley that he realized that already an hour had passed of his wanderings. For once, he turned his attentions to something other than his search for the giant man.

He was in a narrow alleyway, darker and less crowded than Diagon alley. There were fewer people as well, something that Will would have usually been glad. But all he saw in them was not of the light-hearted rush and bustle of the previous alley; they were overfilled greed, malice, pain, and _darkness_. Individuals whose hearts matched their visage with beady little eyes, oily faces and hair, and crooked, yellow teeth. They fit into their surroundings, a backdrop of black and grey cobble stones and brick where more darkness clouded even the window view to the stores. Will could smell the cold musk and mould in the air.

Hagrid wouldn't be here, Will rationalized, as he quickly turned to leave. He didn't fit the image. Will turned back, however, he wasn't even able to take a single away from the cold before a woman crowded his way, humped back with lack-lustre grey hair falling over a warted face. She was dressed in black robes that were frayed at the edges and she smelled of _blood._

"Excuse me," Will whispered, out of pure courtesy as his voice choked in his throat. The matrons at the orphanage always told him that he could only get what he needed if he was polite. And he _needed _to leave. But he woman was crowding his space, iron smell of blood - rotted, metallic and sanguine - was making him light headed.

"Lost, little boy?" she rasped, her voice a perfect copy of all the villainous witches from the rare movie nights the matrons had let him attend. William shook his head, taking a step back from the witch. He felt a cold, rough hand circle his wrist, tugging him closer to that rot on smell. Will's mind was beginning to blank out, filling with a panicked frenzy of _don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me_. He stopped breathing despite the erratic beat of his heart. For a moment, he thought that perhaps the witch was choking him. But it was only his body turning on him in betrayal.

Will tried to free his wrist, accidentally making eye contact with his captor. He shuddered at the sight; there was no decency in her eyes. Just greed, _so much greed_.

_Little boys make a hefty price these days. His blood would make a fortune. Those eyes too. So blue, very, very blue. A high price for each. And his hair, soft and youthful._

Will whimpered, unable to scream in his shock. Her intentions were flowing into him rapidly, words and thoughts overtaking his mind. And he understood. He understood her, and what she wanted to do. The boy shut his eyes to make the flow of thoughts stop, but they were already there, ruminating in his brain despite his wishes. The wrist that the witch held onto was the one that hid his wand in his sleeve - not that it would do any use, he knew no spells except for the _Lumos_ that he witnessed Hagrid use.

_I'm going to die_, Will thought. He felt the witch's grip tighten on his wrist, nails, uneven and ragged digging into his flesh. Pain shocked his arm, and he knew that she had broken skin - that blood was welling up as the woman smelled her product. Because that was what Will was to her, livestock to be sold. _A collection of parts._ He opened his eyes to find that she was indeed bent over, smelling him. It was a moment of distraction, allowing him to force his arm away and break into a run; it was little matter to him that his wrist dislocated, not when the woman was screeching at him to come back. Reaching for him, clawing at his back until it caught hold at the hood of his robe. Everyone in the alley was watching. Observing as he tried to escape the witches hold; Will heard a chuckle. He choked, not knowing if it was from the realization that spend thrust on him or the front clasp of his robe digging into his throat.

They wouldn't help him. He flashed back to all the times in the orphanage where he was kicked and shoved. The matrons' indifferent stares. The laughs of pleasures at watching him writh in pain. No one helped him then; it was foolish of Will to think the wizarding world would be different.

The witch dragged Will down the dark alley, ignoring the whimpers of the little boy. Onlookers were watching with unabashed pleasure. A part of Will's heart wanted to give up; let all the pain of his life end in this dingy little alleyway. But, another part didn't want that. It didn't want to die. _Really, really didn't want to die._

Will slipped his wand out of his sleeve, twisting towards the woman who was dragging him by the hood. He stabbed at the witch's hand, igniting another screech as she reached for her own wand. But Will didn't let her - he didn't know what he was doing, what he was thinking when he reached out his hand. His thoughts were a jumbled mess - only two pieces of rationality stuck in his mind. He wanted to be free. Away to the promise of the school of magic.

And he wanted her to know hurt. Because then she'd understand it all: his fear.

Will's hand touched the roughness of her face, just a short touch before he was thrown back by the woman's waving arms. He slid against the cobblestone, wand flying, his back hitting stone as he watched the woman flail in pain. She was screaming as she clawed at her face, but there were no visible wounds on her body. Her pain was all in her mind, just as Will had wished it.

At the time, he didn't know it had been him. He hadn't felt anything happen. But it was all inconsequential. Especially when it took all he had to hurry to his feet, what with his busted wrist - dislocated with half moon marks bleed out. But the pain wasn't on his mind, only escape.

He didn't even see someone follow himself outside of the alley.

Will only stopped running when the cafe was within sight. He could see Hagrid through the window, talking worriedly with one of the employees. A sigh of relief left the boy's lips as he limped towards the familiar territory. The adrenaline was fading from his veins and he began to struggle breathing as he tried to endure the pain of his wrist and body. He tripped in his desperation to get to the shop. There was a hand, however, that kept him from falling.

It only caused Will alarm to feel the steadiness of another person, especially after the previous fiasco. He flailed in the grip, but he was firmly put in his place by another hand. A boy, not his age, maybe slightly older, was staring at him calmly - almost emotionless except for the curiosity in brown eyes: brown eyes tinged with red, Will noticed.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the boy said placidly. If not for the fact that his expression refused to change, Will might have believed him. However, he could sense no malice to bely his words either. He stared at the older boy with suspicion.

"Here," the boy offered, placing Will's wand in his hand. The younger boy relaxed imperceptibly, the sense of familiarity at recognizing what was his.. And sure, the other meant little harm if had chosen to return it to him; however, if he had been present at Will's time of need, why hadn't he helped?

"I ran to get my uncle when I saw you being dragged into Knockturn alley," the boy answered, as if reading Will's thoughts. "You were gone by the time we returned, however."

There was an accent in the boy's lilt that Will couldn't quite place. It comforted him though, to think that maybe the boy was a foreigner - just like Will - in this place. He turned the thought away, finding it highly unlikely. His shoulders poised and sharp, unhidden even by his red hood. The boy was in his niche, in all sense of the word.

"You're injured," the boy noticed, seeing how Will's wrist was beginning to swell, blood crusting down half moons. He slid out his own wand, pointing it at the point of injury with a soft mutter of words. Will shocked at how the swelling and pain disappeared only a second later.

"WILL!"

The two of them looked up - Will startled, the other with the same expression - at the sound of Hagrid's roar as the man marched over to them. He only had eyes for Will though as he narrowed his eyes at the boy with undisguised worry.

"Are yeh alright?!" he asked, patting the boy down for injuries. "They told me yeh just rushed out, what were yeh thinkin'?!"

Will looked at his feet, embarrassed at the turn of events. "I thought you weren't coming back, so I went to look for you..."

Hagrid narrowed his eyes in confusion, before a light of understanding lit his face. The man's shoulders fell, defeated, as his worry subsided. He knelt down to Will's level. "There were just some troubles with lodging - it's a busy time o' year, yeh see. I wouldn't jus' leave yeh here."

Will nodded, for lack of a verbal answer. He struggled to find words, deigning the best course of action to confess. Even if it was only a half-truth.

"I hurt my wrist, but he healed it." Will gestured to the older boy that was watching their exchange with same calm expression. Hagrid looked up in surprise, as if he never noticed the boy standing there. Most likely, he didn't.

"Hannibal Lecter!"

Hagrid grinned at the sight of the boy, staggering back up.

"Luck on yeh, Will! Meeting one of Hogwarts best and brightest on yer first trip to the wizarding world! Healing spell are really advanced, yeh see. Not many can do it at his age!" He patted Will on the back for his surprise achievement.

"First time?" Hannibal intoned, smiling slightly at the praise. "You're a muggleborn then?"

Will didn't answer, unfamiliar with the term. Hagrid answered for him. "Can't really say for sure, Graham is such a common surname 'round the world. Dumbledore couldn't find any records on 'im before we found 'im in an orphanage."

Will wanted to shrink at the information; everything that Hagrid had said was private. Something he wanted to keep hidden as long he was able. But here it was, revealed to the first person close to his age. A school mate, no less.

"Hm." Hannibal acknowledged the information; Will could feel his stare from the top of his hair - he wanted to hide away behind his curls. Let magic grow it out to hide his face and form forever. But it was at that moment that Hagrid realized that he hadn't introduced the two of them properly.

"Will, this is Hannibal Lecter! He's a third year from where you'll be going!" He positioned Will in front of Hannibal, putting a hand to Will's spine to have him stand up straight. "And this 'un here is Will Graham. Just gonna be sorted this year!"

Hannibal smiled pleasantly at the little boy. Will didn't know what to make of him. All he revealed of himself was kindness and reserved smiles. It wasn't something that Will found familiar. In fact, he was a bit uncomfortable with the attention.

"I hope you'll look up to me for advice in the future, Will," the boy told Will. Still smiling.

Will just mumbled, his words illegible. Hannibal looked reliable and sincere from where he stood; but then there was that uncomfortable aura that his attention gave Will. His eyes remained cold and decades older even when the corner of them wrinkled with his smile.

"I don't find you that interesting," Will muttered, finding nothing better to say, shameful anxiety making him forget to be polite. He knew the words were a lie and defence as well, making them all the more ruder. There was something off about Hannibal, but he couldn't tell if that was from his own discomfort from the unfamiliar attention or the older boy himself. He was reminded of the witch. It was a foolish thought, given the boy wasn't much older than him, didn't have wrinkles or warts, but...the anxiety was still there. Hannibal's smile only widened despite the rudeness.

"You will,' he promised. "God forbid we become friendly."

. . . .

Hannibal was curious - interested, if you will.

He had left his uncle's side, wandering down to Knockturn Alley with the innocent intention of buying some select potion ingredients. There were some _personal _experiments that he wanted to finish before the end of summer break. But Diagon Alley, for all its magnitude, just didn't have what he needed. He hadn't planned to find such a small boy being accosted by one of the illegal potions dealers. Usually, he'd ignore such a thing - it wasn't in his nature to interfere, contrary to the lion and red of his Hogwart's uniform. Really, it was the child's fault for venturing into the alley alone and unaccompanied. He hadn't even had his hood upturned as Hannibal did to hide the fact he was only a boy by wizarding standards. Of course, _Hannibal,_ didn't need to, he was capable to overpowering the average wizard; plus they tended to underestimate him for the fact he was thirteen. Much too young, _too stupid_, to put up a decent fight.

Hannibal would easily put them in their place. But it really wasn't worth his time to attract such pigs.

The child, Hannibal deemed, would be dead before nightfall - the woman was known to make quick work of her ingredients. Perhaps, he'd purchase some later on - it was guaranteed to be fresh until the next day at the least. He chuckled at the boy's pathetic attempts at escape - flailing about without even _trying _to use his magic. Perhaps the boy was a squib, most likely just an idiot. Hannibal chose to feel no sympathy for those who were trapped in the grips of Knockturn Alley. It was a necessary evil - for _potion ingredients. _

The next moment, however, just before the boy's death sentence had been absolute, had piqued Hannibal's interest. It was the way the child had brushed his hand on the witch's face, not even a second of contact passing. That, and the way the woman had cringed at the touch, her eyes rolling back in pain as though the child had cast a _Cruciatus_. But she showed no loss of nerve control that the curse usually gave its victims. Rather, it seemed more as though she was having a mental break than anything else.

If he had more time, Hannibal would have stayed to examine the boy's handiwork - such an interesting thing, watching the dealer writhe and scratch at her face. As if trying to get to her brain, Hannibal thought. But then, he'd have lost the boy.

Instead, Hannibal picked up the boy's fallen wand - successfully attaining his method for contact - following the footfalls of a panicked child.

Such advanced magic, wandless and wordless, for a young age. Powerful, even when done accidentally. Usually, children tended to send a burst of power springing forth from them to ward off threats. Push away the evil monsters, block them off with a barrier - just like like hiding behind a blanket. Yet the boy had harmed the woman with such malicious intent, buried deep under his will to live. Hannibal shivered at the thought. So much potential. He had yet to meet someone that shared a level of power close to his; at least, someone near his age.

Such a remarkable boy, Hannibal thought.

He wanted to watch the fruit ripen. If it was sweet he'd keep it close. If he found it distasteful, however…it would be an easy thing to let it rot.

se. If he found it distasteful, however…it would be an easy thing to let it rot.

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A/N: Hi? Reviews are nice.


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